Fallout: Scorched Steel
by Prototype Android
Summary: When the Brotherhood Chapter in Appalachia collapses, everything seems to mentally crumble for poor old Doc, and it's left up to his Squad of Remnants to help him through this baffling and unhinged time. Look on the bright side, at least Doc hasn't gone over the tipping point of lunacy. Or.. has he?
1. Doc's Holotape

**October 31st, 2102**

The Wasteland isn't always a lucky place, but it doesn't take a genius to figure that out does it? It was only 25 years after the day everything changed. The Commies and the US wiping out most of the world in no more than a few hours. Yet, thankfully not everyone died on that faithful day, especially some in West Vrigina, or more commonly called now; _Appalachia_. No longer apart of a Commonwealth, or a Federal Government, but a Wasteland. The only reason I, myself survived? I say, well, Luck. I'm lucky as hell. My Magic 8-Ball doesn't seem to agree though, unfortunately.

Despite that dumb thing, I wouldn't let myself lose sight of what I was now. My new memories and will to live are what anchors me to this true reality. As fortune would have it, I was inducted into a "Brotherhood of Steel" as just a puny time ago, these Power Armored Soldiers marched into my former camp many years after the bombs fell. Being left in refuge and isolated after abandoning my post at Camp McClintock all that time ago. But in all honesty-? I lost every sense I could've had of time, besides the time of day of course. I, and my few remaining allies were offered a choice. Either remain in the deprived, abandoned situation we were in, or become apart of something bigger.

But **b****ack then-? **My face was clean, no mask. Hopeful ocean eyes. Neat jet black hair fitted underneath a rank and file Army helmet. Just like my Unit. We were ready for whatever this world held for us, and we were tired of being in this wasteland. Years, and years of routine and doing whatever we could to survive. I was around my early 40's by this point, or so I can guess. You'd never guess how unhinged I became in the end of all this.

Despite our nomadic survival, we were offered to join the _Brotherhood of Steel_. Of course, I, and my survivalist Squadmates obliged and became inducted at some Power Station far off from where I would ever imagine to travel. It was a hell of a walk, and having to pass some Medical and Fitness tests once there just to claim our ranks within this so called Chapter. It was a strange new Army we were in, but I wasn't one for that heavy tin can of armor everyone seemed to wear. Unlike my friends who suited up the first chance they got. I became what was referred to as, a "Scribe." Getting past the required certifications was already a difficult chore enough, but getting assigned as a Field Scribe specifically to my former Unit's Squad-? Much harder.

But at last, I had managed to sober up both Intelligence and Charisma enough to claim my status as a Scribe in the Field. You'd be amazed what you can get away with popping a few Mentats and hard Whiskey for confidence. Now working along side two Knights, and a Paladin, who still stand beside me today as my friends. This whole Brotherhood thing-? It didn't last very long after any of that. The Scorched plague, the Free States, and last of all, the actual Scorchbeasts. Those damned things ruined EVERY LAST BIT OF WHAT WE HELD AT HEART. I vowed to protect these Wastelanders from Technology they didn't understand, just to prevent the world from ending a second time.

But now-? There was no Brotherhood. No more Hope for this world. This is when that familar, dark look creeped over my capped and hooded face. Maintaining what was my Uniform was almost a ritual for me, up until now. While my true name is no longer important, I usually refer to myself as _"Doc"_ now. On account of my choice in facial wear; my nonnegotiable decision to keep a stained, dirt-covered Surgical mask on my face. It somewhat maintains a feeling of being hidden. The face beneath isn't what mattered to me anymore, and especially not to the people I hang around. Glancing in a mirror nowadays only made me feel even more secluded from who I once was before the war, and when joining the Brotherhood. With my bloodshot azure orbs staring back at me through the glistening shards of glass. The common white mask, and my darkened, black rimmed eyes. My own eyes frightened me at times, rings looking like I haven't slept in days, and appearing as black as the ash and coal I would see lying around. Radiation dust coating my upper face and forehead, just adding to my unclean nature.

I even took to Raiding and pillaging corpses we come across now, probably due to my lack of morality anymore. After the Chapter collapsed, I've taken a bunch of new tendancies I never thought I'd pick up. For instnace, I look damn good in a Ratty Skirt. To say otherwise, is a crime to fashion. Oh, but I'm trailing off. To anyone who finds these Holotapes? You probably think I'll say something cliche in the end like, "Don't give up hope!" or, "Stay away from Jangles the Moon-Monkey!" But, no. All I have to say is.. you're fucked.

This is Field Scribe "Doc" signing off for the final time. Try out some Psycho now, it'll make you feel how I feel 24/7.


	2. The Road Begins

Today was the Friday marking the final departure from Thunder Mountain by the remaining remnants of the Brotherhood chapter there. With them seemingly being the last of their standing soldiers anyways. The Sky was a dull, gloomy gray with overcast clouds looming over the usually colorful and lively swamp trees. Species of mutated birds chirping about in the humid enviorment, and birds picking at the desolate corpses of Brotherhood and Scorched alike. Lying about the perimeter of the once functioning plant. Yet everything there seemed finally quiet, with the final Fireteam leaving the base to rot in peace. But just outside the base next to the decaying highway, was the Squad itself. The Power-Armored figure stood facing the ruins of their once proud home, the tents slightly swaying in the cold breeze, the torn flag of the Brotherhood flying as a reminder of what once was, no longer. A Scribe sat, two knights watched the road. It would appear the group was in a quiet remembrance for their fallen Brothers and Sisters.

"Ay, Doc. I think it's time we finally get going ol' friend." That prideful, somber tone snapped Doc away from the Holotape clutched in his desperate, filthy gloves. It came from none other than Knight Ares, clad in his usual Knight attire. Similar to Doc's gear despite being black in coloration instead of the usual red. Even missing the backpack the Scribe hauled around on his back, and sporting a black beret to distinguish Ares from Moth, who had nothing on his head that wasn't a Mothman cap. Behind him, stood another Paladin and Knight; Rich and Knight Moth respectively. All turning to glance at what was their former Field Scribe sitting beside the road and against the husk of a burnt, nutrient-dead Tree. His hollow, darkened and bloodshot eyes just staying down and looking at the Holotape he just recorded previously. "If we have to. I just can't believe this happened, everything seemed so.." The Scribe half-admitted, not taking his eyes off the tape. "Hopeful." Rich finished Doc's sentence for him, the Scribe letting out a sigh directly after.

"I think you should leave the tapes here. You don't need them anymore, you're just demoralizing yourself by talking into it.." The Knight kneeled down to the Doctor's level to speak to him on a more personal level. After all, before they leave, they had to address this issue first.

"It's not a problem. They stay with me. I don't care what you say." Doc interjected, sputtering out a hateful glare towards him. Replacing the upset and saddened gaze that formally accompanied him, giving access to the dead stare that the Scribe truly had. No one said a word, and the sitting male wasn't about to back down and give up the self-harming Holotapes he carried. Recording about one a day after the full collapse of the Brotherhood, ending up now with five in total stowed away in his pack.

Ares wasn't about to deal with this depressing action any further, he wouldn't let his only Pre-war friend tear himself apart and talk into a device all day. They had to get moving from this Site. Snatching the tape from his grasp suddenly, causing Doc to frantically yell out a panicked, "NO!" But it wasn't like punching and grabbing at his hand trying to pry the tape free from his seating spot would stall the Knight. So, he threw the Holotape into the shrubbery and woods past the Insane Scribe. "Cool it 'brotha. I'm only trying to help." Ares retorted, casually dusting his hands together almost mockingly towards the worried, mental Doc. "You should let me handle this further. Stand down Knight." Rich commanded, to which Ares turned to stare at him with a look of annoyance and disappointment. Just to silently nod, and crack his knuckles while backing away from Doc.

"Scribe. I need you to level with me." Rich began, taking steps towards the Doctor, who began to stand up and glare at the Paladin.

"I don't need to LEVEL with anyone. He threw my GODAMNED Holotape! If anything, I should BEAT THE LIVING HELL OUT OF HIM!" Doc shouted at the muted Knight besides Moth. Who just shrugged and maintained his saddened stare twoards his aggressor. Deep down, both knew who would win. _They all knew of course._

"And.. he just, thinks he is helping my problems? No. Nooo. As if I already didn't have enough to deal with! I thought you were my friend you motherfu.." It seemed this group had a habit of interruption, as Rich stalled the last word of his sentence. "Even Moth is acting more restrained than you; and he-" The Paladin starts up again, only to get ruined by Knight Moth butting in the talk between the two.

"Did someone say Moth? Well, you see. This ain't no joke my b, Mothman is coming for us. Look, I know it's hard to believe, but just take my word! We have.. to tread carefully...!" Moth warned, only to get pulled back by the fellow Knight behind him. "Stand down Moth." Ares himself ordered. Then, finally leaving Rich and Doc together. All the while, Doc looked like he perpetually pissed off, despite his eyes being only visible, it was all that was needed to be seen to express emotion. His stare could simply be described as ragefilled and rotten like the inner Raider that Doc had transformed into.

"Doc. I need you to calm down. I know the Brotherhood's defeat might have.. knocked a few screws loose, but you wanted to protect people, right? We all did. So, follow through with your promise. I say this as a Friend, not just a Paladin. It's in the past now, you've had days and days, Trooper."

If Rich declares himself a friend like that, he might as well call Ares a 'brotha' in return if they were all that close. No way would he call the Paladin a friend. All he ever did was issue orders like a robot, not a human. "Whatever you fuckin' want your highness. But listen here buddy, we can get moving NOW if that really gets your rocks off. But you sure as hell aren't going to tell me what NOT to do while we walk." With that, Doc feebly shoved the T-60 clad Paladin over to get past him. With all their eyes on him, he began to walk down the road leading to their destination. Considering they mutually agreed on heading towards Fort Defiance, in search of any Remnants that remain after having lost contact with the Units stationed there.

"Ad Victoriam." Rich stated, pressing a fist to his metal chest and getting back on the road behind the bloodthirsty Doc. No one really argued with him on his motivation to end the Scorched, as they all knew it is in their best interest. It was just a conflict with him on if he'd even survive to see it, with Doc always beating himself up internally. Moth meanehile, began to slink behind Rich with a lack of motivation in his steps, considering no one ever wanted to hear his tales of the Mothman; hence his nickname. This left Ares all alone as his Squad traveled down the road without him. But he himself wasn't as monotone or mean as he really came off as, and instead, went to retrieve the lunged Holotape Doc had. Digging through the grass beside the road just to root it out, and once found, let it rest in his palm for a while as he picked up a slow walking pace behind the rest of the Unit.

Ares and Doc were good friends, hailing from their Pre-war Unit together. Although, it really was painful to see his former friend in such a depressing and shallow state of mind after knowing him for so many years without sinilar issues. Unlike how he was before, Doc was very drastically different. While Rich being the Paladin who recruited them in the first place, and introducing the Military Duo to Moth; who supposedly hailed from Point pleasant and a former Army Private, or so he claimed. But Moth kept to himself, and preferred to just drink his troubles away while rambling on about the myth of Mothman around where he was stationed. Over their time of training, the four became an inseparable Technological retrieval squad, who never missed their goal. But now, it was just a faint memory.

The Knight witnessing Moth lose himself to the idea that 'Mothman' was coming for him, and intended to kill the Cryptid. Watching Rich be a meticulous and montone leader who never seemed to sleep. Then seeing obviously, his Friend Doc rip himself apart through Holotapes and viciously attacking Scorched in the name of the Brotherhood. It was a painful, shady time for the Knight. But he never showed off his emotion, instead being reculsive and rather suspicious at times. But deep down, he wouldn't let his Team down. Doc could get better, Moth could quit drinking, and maybe Rich could finally catch some sleep and emotion with it. _But enough of his thinking. _The Team had wandered in silence, or so Ares could understand. With him hanging back to glance over the tape in his metal hand. Pressing the play button, and deciding to discreetly listen in to Doc's supposed pain. "The Wasteland isn't always a lucky place.." The digitized recording began, obviously being fed through by Doc.

Meanwhile with the rest of the Trio, Moth was obviously going on again about his stories as usual. To Doc, Moth was only ever bearable when he was drunk, since then he seemed to actually be able to converse like a normal person. The Paladin just tuned him out a long time ago, as no amount of help ever seemed to stop the Mothman-delluded Knight. "..And that's when she yelled, 'IT'S THE BAT!' and started swinging at Mothman like a lunatic. Mothman just fluttered his wings screeching like some sort of demon, and grabbed the Lieutenant! I swear, if you guys could've seen me, I was never so scared in my life!"

"Moth, now's not the time." Doc firmly stated, crossing his arms and eyeing the road before them. It was at least an two hour walk through the Mire and to Watoga. Where supposedly Fort Defiance laid somewhere around, and so did their only leads on where this Scorched infestation may have originated from. "Well ok. But man, I hardly managed to get away from the damned thing! Some sort of _Vengeful_ Mothman!" Moth never knew when to stop. Thankfully they were in seclusion a fair walk away from Thunder mountain already, and had a clear highway to their destination.

"Sure. The day we find a Mothman, is the day we'll have Jetpacks on our armor, and Doc actually becomes a Doctor." Rich sarcastically spoke, only for Moth to hum in agreement like a sassy girl. "Mhhhmmm, damn right. I look forward to it. Hell of a day it'll be."

"I was being sarcastic. I guess I don't do it enough to make it clear." The Paladin sighed. Even any sort of joke that slipped past his usual blank slate seemed to jet over their heads. "It was easy to tell. He's just stupid." Doc casually responded, getting an offended noise from the Knight behind them. "Or drunk, aahhah..! Say, anyone got a bottle or two? Moth-Daddy is feeling thirsty."

"_What is wrong with you?_ I thought I was crazy. I.. undoubtedly probably am, but not to your extent." Doc's words couldn't be anymore true, and even Rich openly agreed to this with a clear nod of his head. Moth himself didn't hold much of an answer to this at all, considering _he knew he was._ Maybe his rambling was just a way to handle stress from the same event that drove Doc into who he was now. The Brotherhood's defeat really seemed to have driven them both in two directions. With the Moth-Knight going quiet at long last, they traveled in peace for what seemed like a few minutes. Possibly even forgetting Ares was lagging behind them in terms of speed for reasons unknown to them.

...

But as expected, their silence only lasted so long. Marching along on the road, before a loud BANG sounded off to their immediate right. About four people rushing in from both sides in front of them to stall the Trio from moving forward. But rather poorly at that. Leaving Rich as the main target for them while leaving Moth 'n Doc free, if Doc's dead glare wasn't enough to scare them off first. "WEAPONS ON THE GROUND FUCKERS, WE'RE LOOKIN' FOR SPRINGS!! Mister Power armor better keep his hands down if he wants to keep them!" One shouted, jamming a Combat Shotgun straight at Rich's bulky chest. With none of the Brotherhood Remnants spitting out any words, besides Moth shuttering in fear and looking like he was about to explode. One could only assume what he was seeing, considering he was probably wasted on Vodka or something similar.

"TELL THEM WE WANT ADHESIVE TOO!" Another Raider yelled out from beside the first one. It seemed these were some awful Scavengers in all honesty, and even the Field Scribe could do better than this. "YEAH! SOME GLUE TOO!" Now, that Shotgun was pointed in Doc's face now. Straight at his head; but fortunately the Scribe didn't react or flinch, instead just pressing his forehead against the barrel much to the Raider's utter shock.

"Your from Vault 76, aren't you all?" Rich professionally responded, his voice coming off in the usual digitized manner of those who wore power armor talked in, albeit with his calm and authoritative manner. But the Paladin's observation was a simple one, since underneath the Thieve's feeble metal plating and assorted junk plastered over their bodies, was a vibrant, dirty blue Jumpsuit. If Rich could only see their backs, he'd see the obvious 76 branded on them. But the noticeable blue with gold stripes was enough for him. "Yeah?! So what's it to ya?! Just need to finish our C.A.M.P. alright? No need for any funny business unless you want your fuckin' head blown off right?!"

Rich only chuckled, and didn't respond again. Moth slowly scurrying behind the Taller, armored Paladin before him for cover. Doc, unmoving and being held at gunpoint. Ares? No where to be found it seemed. "Are you three stupid or something?" The male Raider spoke again, only for the female beside him to finally speak up; while the other two males seemed to be quiet. "I like this one. Got some killer eyes." She commented on Doc, keeping the shotgun pointed to his head at the same time. Which Rich and Moth couldn't contain their bundle of asburd laughter. The Field Scribe-? Not so amused.

"WHAT ARE YOU LAUGHING AT?!" The female Raider yelled, lowering the barrel of the shotgun from the Raider-ish Scribe. Just enough for Doc to grunt, and quickly reach for the Gun itself, grabbing the barrel and pulling the woman against his chest, her back to him. Quickly ruining the would-be Raider's plans and turning the tables on them. Now having one arm around the Raider's neck and the other having the Shotgun pointed like a pistol at her head one handedly, all while struggling at his arm with Doc restraining her. "Why I outta.. Let him go! Sarah never hurt 'no body! We was just lookin for materials!" Another Raider cut in, raising a simple 10mm towards Doc and 'Sarah.' Rich and Moth both lifted their weapons from their respective places respectively, with Moth reaching into his pants to whip out an uncomfortably warm Revolver.

Even Rich couldn't contain his disgust in that, audibly, and along with the Raiders, going: "Eew.. uggh.." To which the Knight just shrugged, "Inventory management my b. Keeping things safe from the Moth."

"..Gross. Thank god he isn't one of ours.." Even while Doc held Sarah hostage, she couldn't maintain a panic when Moth just pulled that out. "Yeah, but he's ours. You all better run off if you know what's good for you. I tend it get fidgety with triggers you know?! Don't.. do so well UNDER PRESSURE." The Scribe threatened, nudging the Shotgun against the Woman's head.

"You Bucket-heads should all be dead anyways! See 'em laying in that armor everywhere!" One of the other Raiders worryingly yelled, seemingly backing up in utter fear now.

"Yo! Fuck this shit! I ain't losing my junk to some tryhard!" The last one yelled, dropping his Pipe-Revolver and bolting back into the Swamp Trees, with the former one following close behind right after. But they didn't get far into the breezy, tall blades of grass before a sudden barrage of lasers shot them down into nothing but ash. Leaving Sarah and the Raider screaming like horrified Toddlers.

"IT'S A SENTRY BOT!" She panicked and warned, breaking free of Doc's grip and pointing a finger to the source of the lasers. But at last! Ares stepped out from behind the thick tree, just to cheaply blow off non-existant smoke from the barrel of his Automatic Laser Rifle. "Yea, Yea, no need to thank me."

Before Rich or Doc could say anything, a loud gunshot rang out as Ares fell flat onto his back. "ARES!" The Scribe threw Sarah towards her Raider friend as he rushed over to see what happened. Rich quickly snapped to look at the Knight behind him, who still maintained his Revolver pointed out, and to where Ares stood. The familiar smoke protruding from the barrel.. "What the hell did you do?!"

"I.. thought it was Mothman? Look, my finger was sweaty and it slipped, an- IT WAS A RUBBER BULLET RIGHT?"

"It better be, or your ass is on the line Knight." Rich threatened, before heading over to see if Doc needed any help. Stranding the Aggressor to sheepishly stand beside the two Raiders, who just looked petrified by how this simple mugging turned out. Two friends dead and someone got shot. But upon approaching the Duo, the Paladin could see Ares grasping and holding his crotch in visible, agonizing pain on the dirt.

"THAT NUT SHOT ME IN MY DICK! IN THE-"

"Spare me the details. Will he be alright, Doc?" Rich asked, lowering the Gatling laser he commonly carried with him. Usually hooking and storing it on the back of his armor like a usual rifle. "I mean. The Man's dick got shot. Not much I can say or do. Probably can't have Children." The Scribe responded, as monotone and expressionless as ever about it.

"IN THE TIP!" Ares groaned out in sheer pain.

"I said I was sorry!" Moth shouted at them, before smiling at the Raiders. "Excuse my friends, they are quite the handful." He causally says while still maintaining a waving gun in their faces. Both Raiders simultaneously nodding to spare themselves being shot by the so called Rubber-bullets.

"**THIS IS THE WORST PAIN I'VE EVER FELT IN MY ENTIRE LIFE!**" Further yelled Ares.

"Alright just calm down. You big Cry-baby bitch. Doctor's here and I got a Stim. Too bad it needs to go on the place of pain."

"You mean-?" Rich curiously poked in.

"Yes." Doc finished.

"WAIT, WAIT, NO NO!"

From above the Trees, a loud billowing scream was heard as flocks of birds flew away from the area. What an awful way to start a long walk..


End file.
